Badassery doesn’t expire.

It doesn’t get stale, it doesn’t need batteries, and it absolutely doesn’t clock out when the shift ends.

If anything, it ages like a questionably sealed bottle of whiskey tucked in a desk drawer– stronger, a little rough around the edges, and likely to knock you on your ass if you underestimate it.

Which is why it’s time we acknowledge something critical:

You remain a badass.

And, in your comm center, you’re still doing relentless badassery.

Yes, even now. Even after 500 night shifts, two lifetimes’ worth of staff meetings that could’ve been emails, and a heroic number of vending machine dinners.

Still. A. Badass.

Still. Doing. Badassery.

It’s easy to think the shine wears off after a while. That the awe you felt watching dispatchers on Day One gets dulled by routine, or staffing shortages, or a particularly cursed shift where someone nuked fish in the breakroom and morale hasn’t recovered.

But here’s the thing — badassery isn’t loud.

 It doesn’t wear a cape. (Though honestly, capes would be kind of amazing and I support this immediately.)

Badassery is quiet, relentless competence.

It’s showing up for the call after the call that gutted you.

It’s coaching a new hire while mentally stacking priorities like an exhausted Tetris champion.

It’s nailing a plate and direction from a caller who said, “Uhhh… it was a… blue-ish Honda? Maybe?”

Badassery is taking chaos and bending it into something that makes sense.

Again.

And again.

And again.

It’s correcting the CAD narrative mid-keystroke while your radio’s blowing up and your coworker is silently mouthing, “Kill me,” from across the room.

It’s solving three people’s problems before you’ve even finished logging in.

It’s hearing a brand-new dispatcher whisper, “How the hell did you do that?” and realizing … you have no idea. You just did. Because that’s what you do now.

Badassery isn’t flashy — it’s muscle memory wrapped in grit.

It’s the kind of skill that gets overlooked because you make it look easy.

Because the plates you’re spinning haven’t crashed to the floor in at least an hour, and someone out there thinks that means you’re not doing that much.

(Let them think it. You don’t have time to explain plate physics right now.)

Let’s also take a moment to talk about emotional badassery.

Yes, that’s a thing.

You know what qualifies? Staying calm while someone screams that you’re not helping fast enough, even though you’ve already got four units en route.

Not losing it when a caller spirals and takes you with them — but you still manage to keep both of you afloat.

Sitting with someone, figuratively, in the middle of the worst moment of their life while maintaining enough presence of mind to tell responders exactly what they’re walking into.

That’s badassery of the highest order.

You can’t teach that in a classroom.

That’s forged.

Earned.

Lived.

It’s in the moments no one sees.

The deep breath before the next call.

The mental reset after something went sideways and you still have six more hours to go.

The quiet “you good?” you send a teammate with a glance, a sticky note, or a soda you knew they needed without their having asked for it.

Let’s be clear — this isn’t just about the folks on the headset.

The badassery extends in all directions in your comm center.

It’s in the CTOs who take someone still calling it a “walkie-talkie” and turn them into someone who can run a channel like they’ve been doing it for decades.

It’s in the supervisors juggling fifteen crises at once, trying to keep the team upright while remembering how to log themselves into CAD before lunch.

It’s in the directors and managers taking fire from above and below, advocating for their people while quietly carrying the weight of a system that never sleeps.

It’s in every single person who keeps showing up to do a job that doesn’t always say thank you, doesn’t always get it right, and doesn’t always give you time to catch your breath — yet you show up anyway.

That stuff isn’t just badassery.

That’s a master class in it.

So maybe this is the week you remind someone of that.

Maybe it’s the week you remember it about yourself.

Because let’s be honest — if you’ve made it this far?

You didn’t survive it by accident.

You earned it.

Cape or no cape.

During this National Public Safety Telecommunicators Week, stop for just a second and know this without doubt or hesitation:

You are STILL a badass.

Still doing badassery.